Goodbye
by mockingwords
Summary: Based on a prompt by badassnatty on Tumblr: An extended version of the church scene and later on, Nat dies trying to save Steve from anyone who's trying to kill him. I'm sorry I'm terrible like that.


The church was quiet, the funeral procession had long since gone, and he just couldn't bring himself to leave. She had been the only thing, besides Bucky, he had left of his life before this, and now she was gone too.

He was broken.

As he stood there, he looked up to see Natasha walking towards him. She was meant to be in Vienna, signing the Accords, but here she was, standing in front of him.

"There's still plenty of room on the jet you know," she offered.

"I'm not signing it; the safest hands are still our own. You know I can't sign it, Nat."

"I know."

"Then why are you here?" He asked, looking at her. If she wasn't here to convince him to sign it, why _was_ she here?

"I didn't want you to be alone."

The moment the words registered with him, his body went limp from the exhaustion he was feeling. She still cared, despite choosing to sign it. He felt her pull him into an embrace, and he let her. He didn't know what else to do anymore. The entire team was being torn apart in different directions, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"I don't know what to do, Nat," He said, burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled like roses in spring, a soft and mellow scent. It was intoxicating.

"You don't have to; you don't owe the world anything." She replied, her hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. When she finally let go of him, she shot him a small smile, "I've got to go."

"Nat, thank you," he said, she had come all the way here just to see him.

"I'll see you later soldier."

She turned to leave and he was left standing there, alone again.

* * *

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the weather was lovely. The sun was out and he could practically hear the laughter from the little kids across the street. She would've loved it. Steve sat in his car and caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror. He looked like a mess. Tired eyes, bloodshot and red, he ached from the outside to his bones. He was exhausted. He almost chuckled despite the situation, thinking about what she would say. Then the guilt and pain came rushing back, and it was all he could do to stop the tears from brimming in his eyes. He entered the place, hands in his pockets as he tried to avoid the crowd. He didn't want to speak to anyone, much less to see anyone but he was here for her. She was gone and it was all his fault.

Natasha had died, trying to save _him_.

He was one of the pallbearers, along with Sam, Tony, and Clint. The weight of the casket was hardly anything compared to the weight he felt on his shoulders. Her death was on him.

 _You did this._

As they made their way down the altar, he was numb as his feet carried him forward. He saw Pepper crying, she was sat close to the front and his heart clenched.

 _It's my fault._

They carefully set the casket down and he took a seat in the front row, Sam sat down beside him, a concerned look on his face, "Are you okay?"

Steve had been asked that question so many times after that incident that he just nodded numbly. He didn't know what else to say, she was gone and it was on him.

"It's not your fault Steve, it's no one's fault," Sam said, a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Sam," Steve replied, a small smile on his face as he looked away. Maybe Sam realized that he didn't want to hear those words right now, so he backed off, instead offering to sit by him in silence. Steve appreciated the company, even if he didn't say so. The service started shortly after, his emotions in turmoil.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Natalia Romanoff, fondly known as Natasha to most."

Steve's heart ached just listening to the priest speak about her. He had never expected to lose her so soon, she was family, she was an _almost_.

It was funny because Natasha was hardly a person who believed in God, but here he was, listening to sermons being spoken about her. She would have scoffed had she been able to. It was short, just the way he knew she would want it to be and he watched as each one of their teammates stepped up onto the platform to deliver their eulogies.

Clint's speech hit home the most.

"I met Natasha when I was dispatched by S.H.I.E.L.D to take her out. She was a wanted fugitive and I was _given_ the orders to kill her. It was raining and everything was a blur, but I could have ended her life right there and then," Clint paused, "But I didn't. The part of me that obeyed orders told me to just do it, to finish her off. She was a cold-blooded killer, she didn't deserve mercy. She didn't give any to those she had killed. But the human part of me said no, give her a second chance. She looked so ready to die that I couldn't do it. So I took a gamble and brought her back with me instead. Natasha first stepped onto American soil as a wanted criminal. Today, we are burying her as one of our own. She was fondly known to my kids as Auntie Nat, their favourite aunt who brought exotic gifts and promises of mischievous fun. She would visit and stayed with us when she could, and we would always have the best of times. They cried a lot more than I did when they found out and it felt like my heart was being ripped out."

"Her service to the country, the world, is unparalleled. She was killed in the line of duty, protecting the ones she loved. We are able to stand here only because of her. Natasha, you're a gem, the best risk I have ever taken, my favourite Avenger and I love you."

By the time he had stepped off the platform, Steve could tell Barton was teary eyed. She was his best friend, and he had taken her away from him.

It wasn't long before it was his turn to speak, and he gathered himself before making his way up towards the podium. He had written a speech, a proper formal eulogy, but the moment he stepped up there; he folded it up and put it into his pocket.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the words that were about to come out of his mouth, "Natasha Romanoff was the first person who introduced me to the 21st century. I woke up wondering where I was, how I fit in, and she taught me everything I needed to know from iPhones to texting, song genres from pop to dubstep and movies, God, did she love those. She loved Titanic most."

"She taught me how to fight, how the world ran, and she taught me who I wanted to be and how I fit in after the war. The world knew me as Captain America, but she knew me as Steve Rogers. Captain America didn't impress her," he said, a sad smile on his face when he remembered how she had casually dropped that fact while they were training one day, "She told me that Steve Rogers seemed more interesting a man than Captain America ever will be, simply because, Captain America is nothing more than an alias and a shield. Steve Rogers wasn't."

He willed himself to keep it together; he had to keep it together, for _her_.

"She had let me believe that, and soon enough I did. Natasha was hardly naive, she looked at the world as it really was, and she learned to live that way. Her prior," -he paused looking for the right way to put it- "experiences had changed her into someone who was excellent in espionage and battle strategies. She knew what she was capable of, and she knew how to play things her way and claim the bad guy despite not having superpowers. She never failed to amaze me, on and off the field. Without her by my side, it would've been a lot of havoc on the scene. From the STRIKE team to the Avengers, Nat commanded the team as well as any officer I have ever met and for that, I have always been grateful to be Black Widow's partner. She was witty, beautiful, and intelligent to boot. She was perfect, and yet, we lost her too soon."

His voice began to crack, and this time, he let it.

"Nat loved reading, and more often than not, I would find her curled up in the corner of the couch reading a tattered paperback of her favourite book; the Diary of Anne Frank. She had a favourite quote from that book, 'Those who have courage and faith shall never perish in misery'."

"She kept that with her both on the battlefield and in life. She trusted her comrades, she built relationships, she improved herself and..."

He couldn't help the tears that were beginning to trail down his cheeks in a steady stream, "...she helped me find myself... And I'll never forget that. Thank you."

As he took his seat, he couldn't even gauge Sam's reaction because his vision was blurred by the tears that just couldn't seem to stop falling.

* * *

They were burying her in one of the cemeteries near Washington, not far from the church and he had asked to be with her for a few more minutes. Clint shot him a comforting smile and he only nodded in return. As Steve stood by her casket, he could only hate himself. She was laying there, hair fanned out and looking as beautiful as she always was. The cuts and bruises had been covered, and she was dressed in the same black dress that she'd shown off to him just several months ago. It was exactly like that January night. The only difference was that she was no longer breathing.

And it was all his fault.

"Hey, Nat... I kind of told everyone about your love for Anne Frank."

He could already imagine what she would've replied.

 _You're exposing my secrets, Rogers._

"It's just one," he replied as if he was actually having a conversation with her; fingers tracing the outline of the casket, "You're a book full of secrets, and I've shared a sentence that fits you most perfectly."

 _Flatterer._

"Did you hear what I said about you?"

 _I did._

"Did you like it? It seemed a bit too emotional didn't it?" He said, a ghost of a smile on his face.

 _It was beautiful._

As he stood there, he could only look at her with tears in his eyes, "I'm so sorry... This was all my fault."

 _I wanted to do it Steve; I wanted to let you continue your life._

"Oh God Nat..."

His eyes were stinging from all the tears, but they just wouldn't stop. He wept beside her, and God forbid, he wanted to just be with her. It was excruciating pain, and he just wanted it to end. He wanted it to stop.

He spent the next last moments he had with her in silence.

When Sam came in and told him that they had to take her to the burial grounds, he merely nodded. It was time to say goodbye.

"Hey Nat, I've got to let you go now," He could barely speak, his voice held a tremor in it; like leaves swaying in the autumn breeze, "I'll see you soon okay?"

"There's just one last thing I have to give you. Consider it a late birthday present." He smiled, taking in gulps of air to stop the tears long enough for him to finish his sentence. Steve pulled out the diamond ring he had meant to give her after the battle, after everything was over; from his pocket and slipped it onto her finger, "You're my forever Nat, _always._ "

He kissed her hand, his body shaking as he stood back and watched as they closed the casket.

"I love you, Nat..." He whispered.

 _I love you too, Steve._


End file.
